Dance Off
by Christine M. Greenleaf
Summary: A one-shot prequel to my story "Nevermore." I hadn't intended to write it, but lostsoul512 gave me the suggestion, and the more I thought about the scenario of the Arkham inmates in a dancing competition, the more irresistible the idea was, so thank you! :-) Enjoy!


**Dance Off**

"_He came into your apartment, he left the bloodstains on the carpet, then you ran into the bedroom, you were struck down, it was your doom. So, Annie are you ok? Are you ok, Annie? You've been hit by, you've been hit by a smooth criminal!_" sang the Joker, moonwalking into the Rec Room of Arkham Asylum in his usual purple suit and hat.

"How come you got your regular clothes?" demanded Poison Ivy, looking up from the TV.

"Because Doc Kelly says I can wear a costume for the performance," said the Joker, grinning. "And this is just the outfit for a smooth criminal!"

"You can't do _Smooth Criminal_," growled Two-Face, angrily. "I'm doing _Smooth Criminal_!"

"Harvey, please, in terms of criminal textures, I'm a lot smoother than you are," retorted the Joker. "And I'm willing to bet I'm a better Moonwalker than you are," he said, performing the move again. "I know what you're thinking – is that the King of Pop or the Clown Prince of Crime?"

"You're nothing like Michael Jackson," retorted Two-Face, bluntly.

"Sure I am, Harv!" exclaimed the Joker. "We both have royal titles, we're both fantastic dancers, and we're both whiter than we should be naturally!"

"Not any of that other stuff, huh, J?" asked Ivy, lightly.

"What other stuff?" demanded the Joker. "The plastic surgery? Nah, I ain't really got a problem with my nose…"

"I mean the allegations," retorted Ivy.

"What allegations?" demanded the Joker.

She stared at him. "Have you been living under a rock for the past twenty years? Y'know, the allegations."

The Joker just stared back at her. "What, that whole monkey thing? I ain't got a pet monkey, but I have got Harley, which is pretty similar, huh, pumpkin pie?" he asked as Harley Quinn skipped into the room, humming.

"I tell ya, I'm gonna have to be as limber a monkey for this whole routine," she said, beaming and kissing him. "Swinging from wrecking balls ain't for everyone, y'know."

"Where are you gonna get a wrecking ball in here?" asked Ivy, puzzled.

Harley shrugged. "I dunno. But Doc Kelly said we could use props. And costumes, although I don't think that's gonna be a concern for me," she giggled.

"Why? You ain't wearing that, are ya?" asked the Joker, eyeing her grey flannel uniform distastefully. "The only routine you could do in that would be that song the starving orphans sing in _Oliver_."

Harley giggled again. "I ain't gonna be wearing anything, puddin'," she whispered in his ear. "Isn't that gonna be sooo naughty?"

"The hell you ain't!" shouted Joker, shoving her away furiously. "You think I'm gonna let every creep in here get an eyeful of my dame in the buff, like some common tramp?!"

Harley stared at him. "But…but I thought you'd think it was sexy, puddin'," she murmured. "Riding that wrecking ball just like I ride your big, strong…"

"Yeah, I get the phallic imagery, Harl," he snapped. "Don't have to be a shrink to figure out what a long, hard object with a giant dangling thing at the bottom represents. But my dame does not publicly exhibit herself like that!"

"She's allowed to do what she wants, J!" shouted Ivy. "It's empowering!"

"It's whorish!" he shouted. "And no property of mine is gonna act like a tart!"

"Like every other man, you're just scared of her sexuality!" cried Ivy.

"Yeah, and you might be a little too if you've ever been chained to the bed by her!" shouted Joker. "And _she_ should be scared of her sexuality too if she even thinks about displaying it for other guys when it belongs to me!"

"Mr. J, Red, please don't fight," said Harley, stepping in between them. "If it upsets you both that much, I'll do something else. Though it's kinda annoying that I've been practicing licking my hammer all this time for nothing. And it tasted nasty too," she said, making a face. She sighed. "Better go see what else this Miley Cyrus is up to, I like her style," she said, heading over to the computer. "Hmm…_The Hoedown Throwdown_…that sounds kinda kinky…" She watched a clip for a few minutes, her eyes narrowing. "What the hell is this crap?" she demanded. "I'm trying to be sexy and empowered in my womanhood, dammit! What happens if I search 'Miley Cyrus sexy'…"

"You know what song you should do, J?" said Ivy, grinning. "_Holding Out For a Hero_. You could dedicate it to Bats."

"Hmm…that is tempting," agreed Joker, smiling. "But only if he was here, to see the look on his little Bat face."

"We can't both do _Smooth Criminal, _J," growled Two-Face.

"So find a different song, Harvey," retorted Joker. "I had it first. Unless you wanna have a dance off for it."

"No, Mr. J, let him have it!" squealed Harley excitedly, pointing to the screen. "I got just the duet for us – _Blurred Lines! _I can practice my twerking!"

"What the hell is that?" demanded Joker, coming over to watch the clip. "I can't even understand what that man is saying!"

"I'll get the lyrics up for you, Mr. J, they're so us!" Harley exclaimed.

Joker's eyes widened as he watched the video. "This is filth, Harley!" he gasped. "Utter filth!"

"I agree," growled Ivy. "This is totally representative of the base objectification of women, one of many disgusting symptoms of our male-dominated society. It makes me sick."

Joker's face broke into a grin. "I'll do it!" he exclaimed.

"You can't do that song, J – you can't rap," retorted Two-Face. "You're far too white to pull something like that off."

"So is that candy guy!" snapped the Joker. "And he's a rapper!"

"Candy guy?" repeated Two-Face, confused.

"Yeah. M and M," retorted Joker.

Two-Face stared at him. "Do you mean Eminem?" he asked.

"Is he a white rapper?" asked Joker.

"Yeah."

"Then yes, that's the guy. I always thought he was named after the candy. Not such a weird thought – I can see myself naming my kid something like Reeces Pieces…"

"You will not, Mr. J," growled Harley.

"What on earth is all this racket?" demanded Jonathan Crane, storming into the room. "I'm trying to read, and all I can hear is a dull pounding beat. It's like someone driving a nail repeatedly through my skull!"

"Hey Johnny, come over and watch this video to see what a woman will never do to you!" chuckled Joker.

"I don't see how this is any less offensive than me riding a wrecking ball naked," retorted Harley. "You wouldn't have been offended by me riding a wrecking ball naked, would ya, Johnny?" she asked.

Crane stared at her. "Uh…no," he stammered. "Although that is…quite the image…"

"It's too bad Hatty ain't still in here – I got just the song for him!" chuckled Joker, typing the words _Little Girls_ into the search engine. "Gotta admit, it's catchy!"

Crane didn't need this reminder that his best friend was absent – it had been a month since Jervis Tetch had been cured, and it had been the longest month of his life. He had rarely felt more alone in his life, and he missed the frank chats and cups of tea he always shared with Tetch. It was almost unbearably lonely drinking tea on his own.

"What song are you doing, Johnny?" asked Harley, turning to smile at him.

"Song? For what?" he asked.

"For Dr. Kelly's next therapy session," retorted Harley. "Doncha remember? She told us all we had to pick a song to dance to next time. She said it was a new relaxation technique to help unclench our muscles and relax our minds."

"Yes, well, personally nothing is less relaxing to me than dancing," retorted Crane. "I loathe all this ridiculous, new age therapy mumbo jumbo. We both hold psychiatric degrees, Harley. You tell me how dancing or singing or yoga or any of the other stupid exercises she makes us do is meant to improve our mental state."

"Beats me, but it's a heckuva lot more fun that repeating the ink blot test over and over," said Harley, shrugging.

"It's certainly a lot more humiliating," agreed Crane.

"Aw, cheer up, Johnny," said Harley. "Here, we'll help you find a song to do…"

"I'm not dancing, Harley," retorted Crane. "I'm making a principled stand on this. If that woman thinks she can force me into doing anything of the kind, she is very much mistaken. I'm not afraid of her."

"I kinda am," admitted the Joker. "Creeps me out with all that love and hugs stuff. Goddamn hippies. I ain't a big fan of physical contact unless it ends in some kinda horrible torture or mutilation."

"I dunno why Dr. Leland hired her," agreed Two-Face.

"I think at this point she thinks any kinda therapy is probably worth a shot," replied Ivy.

"Good morning, fellow kindred spirits," said a soft voice, and everyone turned to see Dr. Kelly entering the room, smiling her usual, saccharine smile. "I hope your positive energies are aligning with the stars to bring you inner peace on this glorious day. Nirvana is closer than we think, the space between spaces in our minds that we can reach only when we are one with the spiritual universe."

Crane gave her a look of utter contempt. "Well, lemme tell you, my positive energies sure as heck are aligned!" chuckled Joker.

"That's wonderful, Joker," Dr. Kelly murmured, beaming. "Why don't you pass that energy along to your fellow kindred spirits by embracing their outer forms and warming their inner hearts?"

"Do what with the what now?" asked Joker, confused.

"Hug them," replied Dr. Kelly, opening her arms and embracing the Joker, who looked beyond uncomfortable. "A hug is worth a thousand words, after all."

"O…K…maybe next time I could just say a thousand words instead though, Doc," retorted the Joker.

"No, pass the hug around, Joker," replied Dr. Kelly. "Your fellow kindred spirits deserve the same spiritual bond and joy I've just brought to you."

"Uh…yeah…great…here ya go, Harl, pass it on," he muttered, awkwardly putting his arms behind Harley's back and patting it quickly.

Harley beamed, passing the hug onto Ivy, who gave it to Two-Face, who reached for Crane. "Don't touch me!" he snapped, shoving him away.

"Jonathan, please…" began Dr. Kelly.

"My name is Professor Crane, Dr. Kelly," he retorted. "I would prefer it if you would address me by my professional title, although I hate to use yours, as I'm not even sure it's qualified."

"Now Jonathan, titles are a barrier society has invented to separate our kindred souls," replied Dr. Kelly, smiling. "We're all the same inside – we should be celebrating our similarities, not highlighting barriers. If I had my way, we wouldn't even have names. We would just call each other 'my love.' Because I love each and every one of you."

"Wow…and they call us crazy," muttered the Joker. "Plus that's kinda awkward since I got a girlfriend and all…"

"Have each of you chosen your songs for the performance next week?" asked Dr. Kelly.

"Mr. J and me have," said Harley, happily. "We're doing _Blurred Lines_."

"And I'm doing _Smooth Criminal_," said the Joker.

"_I'm _doing _Smooth Criminal_!" snarled Two-Face. "You stick to your objectifying women one!"

"I can do both!" snapped Joker.

"Please, kindred spirits, don't fight," said Dr. Kelly, soothingly. "There's no reason you can't share the same song. Pamela, what about you?"

"I'm doing _Material Girl_," replied Ivy.

"Oh yeah, Pammie, I can really see how you'd relate to a song about a glorified hooker," said Joker, nodding.

"Joker, it's not nice to criticize other people's song choices," replied Dr. Kelly. "Or lifestyle choices. Pamela is allowed to do whatever she wants as long as it makes her happy. What about you, Jonathan?" she asked, smiling at Crane.

"I'm not dancing," he retorted.

"You're refusing to submit to therapy?" she asked, frowning.

"Yes, I am," he snapped. "And you can do what you like about that."

"I'm going to be forced to tell Dr. Leland that you're being uncooperative," said Dr. Kelly. "And she is going to be very disappointed in you, Jonathan."

"The horror, the horror," he retorted, dryly. "I'll leave you all to your terpsichorean heart of darkness. Good day," he said, striding back to his cell.

Dr. Kelly sighed. "I'm going to have to report him to Dr. Leland. You kindred spirits keep practicing."

"Boy, those positive energies are gonna be pissed at Johnny," commented the Joker. "He's a braver man than I."

…

"Just sit and watch them today," pleaded Dr. Leland. "I'll tell Dr. Kelly you don't have to participate if you don't want to, but I need to have it on record that you attended the therapy session."

"The so-called therapy session is an exercise in degradation, Dr. Leland," retorted Crane. "I don't wish to see my fellow inmates being subjected to such an atrocity."

"It's just dancing," retorted Dr. Leland.

"It's the Joker dancing," replied Crane.

"Point," sighed Dr. Leland, running her fingers through her hair. She looked up at him. "Just do this for me, Jonathan, and I'll order you that new set of Edgar Allan Poe you wanted."

He looked back at her. "The complete works?"

"Naturally," she said, nodding.

"Leather bound?"

"…we'll talk," she said, slowly.

He nodded. "Very well. But I am not participating."

"Thank you, Jonathan," Dr. Leland said gratefully, leading him down the hall and into the Rec Room, where space had been cleared for the dance floor.

"Jonathan and I are going to sit and observe this session," said Dr. Leland.

"Do feel free to stand up and join in at any point if you want," said Dr. Kelly, beaming. "This is all about freedom of expression."

"We ready yet?" demanded the Joker, twitching restlessly in his seat.

"Just a few more moments, Joker, while I make the introductions," said Dr. Kelly.

He folded his arms across his chest. "Hurry up about it!" he growled. He began softly singing the song which had been in his head for several days now, "_I love little girls, they make me feel so good. I love little girls, they make me feel so bad_…"

"Makes sense, J," whispered Ivy, nodding. "That's what the allegations were about, after all, except with boys instead of girls."

"What allegations?" he demanded.

"Your allegations, Mr. King of Pop," she retorted.

Before Joker could question her further, Dr. Kelly summoned him and Harley to the dance floor.

Jonathan Crane had never heard of twerking before. And if he was ever asked to describe Harley's performance, that was not the term he would use. It would rather be the phrase 'horror beyond imagination.' In fact, the whole show was a horror beyond imagination, but the climax came about half way through the Joker's performance of _Smooth Criminal_, when he suddenly stopped dancing, froze, and stared at Ivy. "Wait, wait, wait…" he said, snapping off the music. "Are you trying to tell me that Michael Jackson, _the _Michael Jackson, the King of Pop, was accused of being a…pedophile?"

"Of course he was!" shouted Ivy. "It was a huge news story for years and years! How on earth can you not know about this?!"

"Well, Christ, I can't do this song now!" snapped the Joker. "You can have it, Harvey! I can't associate myself with that kinda behavior! It'd ruin my reputation!"

"I don't think anyone would be surprised to hear you liked children, J," retorted Ivy.

And that was when Joker punched her. "Take it back!" he shouted, furiously. "I may be a lotta things, but I ain't no kiddie lover! Or Nazi!"

"Kindred spirits, please…" began Dr. Kelly, but Joker whirled around, spraying acid from the flower in his buttonhole right in her face.

"I ain't no kindred spirit either!" he shouted. "How's that for flower power, hippie?!"

Ivy rushed to attack the Joker, and soon Harley and Two-Face had joined in too. Crane watched the fight with a bored expression as Dr. Leland rushed to get the guards before things could escalate.

But they did. When Batman arrived on the scene, he saw Poison Ivy holding Harley Quinn in a headlock, while the Joker was in a fistfight with Two-Face, all of them surrounded by the bodies of dead guards.

"Ah, the calvary's here," commented Crane, smiling at Batman.

"Batsy!" exclaimed Joker, punching Two-Face hard in the skull and knocking him to the ground. "So glad you could make it! I had a little song I wanted to sing for you. Hit it, Harl!"

"Uh…can't really reach the…button, Mr. J!" gasped Harley.

He shrugged. "Ok, a cappella's fine." He cleared his throat and began to sing. "_Where have all the good men gone, and where are all the gods? Where's the streetwise Hercules to fight the rising odds? Isn't there a dark knight upon a fiery steed?_" he said, winking at him. "_Late at night I toss and I turn and I dream of what I need…I need a hero! I'm holding out for a hero till the end of the night! He's gotta be strong, and he's gotta be fast, and he's gotta be fresh from the fight! I need a hero! I'm holding out for a hero till the morning light! He's gotta be sure and it's gotta been soon and he's gotta be larger than life! Larger than life!_"

Harley had managed to escape from Ivy's headlock and reach the button, and music started playing. "All right, c'mon Bats, dance off!" exclaimed the Joker, beaming at Batman, who was just staring at him in thinly disguised horror. "That's the only way to settle this! I know you've got the moves – I've seen the Bat-dance! Bring it on, buddy!"

Batman continued to stare at him. Then he raised his fist and punched him in the face.

"Son of a…!" shouted the Joker, staggering back, but that was all he managed to say before Batman punched him several more times, finally knocking him unconscious.

Batman turned to Crane. "Sorry…for a moment there, I thought his singing was you fear gassing me," he growled.

"I doubt even your deepest, most subconscious fears could come up with anything that horrific," retorted Crane.

Batman returned them all to their cells shortly afterward. "Well, at least the horror wasn't a total loss," sighed Crane, picking up his book. "I'm getting my Poe anyway."

And a good thing too – this copy was almost worn out, it had been read so many times.

Crane poured himself a single cup of tea, feeling again the emptiness that came without his friend to share it. He would have to get used to being alone, he reasoned. That appeared to be his permanent state in life.

He smiled sadly and read aloud:

"_And the raven, never flitting, still is sitting, still is sitting  
On the pallid bust of Pallas just above my chamber door;  
And his eyes have all the seeming of a demon's that is dreaming,  
And the lamp-light o'er him streaming throws his shadow on the floor;  
And my soul from out that shadow that lies floating on the floor  
Shall be lifted - nevermore!"_

**Continued in "Nevermore"  
**


End file.
